It began well. My lack of plot did not phase me – I was confident that one would emerge as I wrote. In fact, I think it helped. There was no pressure to start in the right place or write a great opening. In fact, the scene I wrote first will not make it to the second draft. It’s a whole lot of throat clearing but for the purpose of writing 50,000 words in a month, that’s fine. Pretty much anything goes. Or so I felt in week 1.
This feeling continued into week 2. I made steady progress. Scenes began to emerge as if from nowhere. When I was stuck, the wordsprints spurred me on. I still didn’t have a plot but that didn’t matter. Yet.
In week 3 I hit a bump. My brother visited so I put nanowrimo on hold. I didn’t give up, though, oh no. I was confident that I’d be able to catch up.
The beginning of week 4 brought highs I’d never experienced from writing before. I couldn’t sleep, could hardly eat. All I could think about was my novel. I went a bit mental, to be honest. Then I struggled.
My word count soured but I struggled. It was all fluff and I knew it. The novel was shit. I still didn’t have a plot. I might reach 50,000 words but it would be 50,000 words of crap.
I won Nanowrimo but I didn’t feel like I had. How had I failed to find a plot in 50,000 words? I doubted that any of it was worth keeping and I had no idea of where to go from there. I was at a loss.
Nanowrimo was exhilarating. For the first couple of weeks it was the most fun I’d ever had writing. For that, I guess, it was worth it. But how would it affect Sylvia? Only time will tell.
Next week, find out what happened when I brought Sylvia to class.